


like a bullet in the back

by bipolaryangxiaolong (rosesandcinnamon)



Series: wings of wax [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Mental Illness, Work In Progress, bipolar character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandcinnamon/pseuds/bipolaryangxiaolong
Summary: “I don’t want this to be my life,” Yang sobs into her shoulder. Blake lets out a breath, holding her closer, Yang clutching at the fabric of her shirt.





	1. november

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. Finally.  
> There are no self harm or suicide warnings here, just general depression misery.  
> Playlist for the fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/60n63x0372g19427gt359d1fv/playlist/5hMYPvpajuiLrHe2ygFDWD) and it follows a very loose order.  
> For those of you with bipolar disorder, I hope this helps ease the ache. For those of you without it, I hope this helps you understand what being bipolar is like. Of course, bear in mind that this is only one character's experience, drawn out of my own experiences. I hope all of you enjoy it.

Her voice shakes as she explains- flashes of rage, unrelenting energy, insomnia, countless other little details. Her heartbeat pulses in her skull. Her hands shake. Her foot taps. Her father is staring at the floor. 

There is silence until the doctor speaks. “Well, what you describe is typical of a hypomanic episode, and with your family history…” 

Yang nods, slowly, eyes on the generically grey-green carpet. She knew. She’s always known. Why does it feel like such a surprise?

“What now?” Tai asks, glancing at his daughter. He wants to put his hand on her knee, but suspects it might hurt more than help.

“We should try a mood stabilizer instead of an antidepressant. We have some options…” 

Yang checks out. Her head is reeling. She feels so absent from herself it almost hurts, chill in her stomach numbing and spreading, making her feel so heavy. It takes a moment to register that the others in the room are looking at her, expecting a response. The creases of sadness and worry in her father’s face upset her on a fundamental level- she wants to smooth those creases out, make sure everything is okay and that everyone is taken care of. That’s all she’s ever wanted. Why is it so hard? As much as she wants to pretend she’s alright, she feels it would be useless. She tells the truth instead. 

“I can’t deal with this right now,” she mumbles, putting her hands in her hair and trying not to cry. She doesn’t understand why it hurts so bad.

“I’d also suggest you see a therapist,” the doctor says- she continues with something about how medication and therapy are most effective together. Yang’s not listening. It feels like her chest is caving in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a tease, I promise the rest is longer! Give me a couple more days on the second section and it'll be out.


	2. september

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the title :)  
> Sorry my "couple of days" turned into a couple of weeks.

_ Don’t let them know, _ Yang coaches herself.  _ Everything is fine. You’re fine. Nothing is wrong _ . She smiles her usual easy smile and goes into the classroom. She goes through her morning with that same smile, trying not to space out and stare at the wall, trying to laugh and joke, trying trying  _ trying _ to be the same bubbly and bright person she always is. She succeeds, she thinks. No one gives her a second glance when she says she’s  _ fine- just tired, you know?  _ and redirects the conversation back to the other person. 

The one exception is Blake. Yang knows Blake noticed when she was quiet in the car this morning- she just hopes she doesn’t think it was anything more than sleepiness. But then she looks up to see golden eyes on her during lunch and knows Blake can see right through her. 

She keeps trying anyway. She at least hums to the radio as she drives her sister and Blake home, looking into the rearview mirror to give her what she hopes is a sunny grin when they get to Blake’s. It’s a surprise when Blake smiles an actual genuine soft smile, so rare from her; it makes her heart clench for two such separate reasons. 

Her sadness the next day (Saturday, thankfully) becomes too much. She skips her morning run, lying in bed instead, hating the half-confused, half-sad way Ruby looks at her. It hurts to even think about reaching out-  _ she doesn’t need this from you, you know better than this _ \- something in her head hisses when she fumbles around in her covers for her phone. She texts her anyway, squeezing her eyes shut as she presses send.

[Yang: Can I come over]

Her phone vibrates not a minute later.

[Blake: Yes.]

A little bit of warmth sparks in her icy stomach. Yang gets out of bed, staring at the mirror over the dresser. She frowns at the reflection- that’s her, she knows, but she feels so removed from the girl in the mirror that it makes her feel dizzy. She turns away. 

Not bothering to switch her shorts for anything longer, she shoves her feet into sneakers, grabs her keys, and finds her dad in the kitchen. Winter is setting in, the leaves on the tree outside finally fallen. She takes in the detail absently as she looks out the window to avoid eye contact.

“Can I go to Blake’s?” Her voice is flat. She knows she shouldn’t make her dad worry, but in her current mood, caring feels like more than she can handle.

He turns, raising an eyebrow. “You’re up late.” Yang rolls her eyes, shoving her hands in her hoodie pocket. Creases on his face become more pronounced as he frowns, eyeing her. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He stares. “I didn’t sleep well,” she mumbles, wondering if that will make it better or worse. She can’t tell from the way he looks at her, expression neutral.

“Sure,” he finally says. She musters up a smile before leaving. She notices the chill against her legs as she goes outside, but it’s fine. Starting her car, she winces as some pop song blasts at full volume. Instead of being turned down, the radio is turned off. She drives in silence.

At Blake’s, she pulls to the curb, sending a “here” text after her car is in park. The engine shudders to a halt when she turns the key. The air seems even colder as she leaves her car. Blake pulls open the door when she gets to it, so it’s not that bad. 

“Yang, it’s getting cold, what are you doing in shorts?” she asks, moving aside. The concern is wasted on her, as she shrugs in answer, kicking her shoes off in the entryway and heading for the stairs. Blake frowns, following. They get to her room- Blake leaves the door open while Yang settles at the end of the bed. “Are you okay?” Blake’s voice is quiet.

She fights with herself. On one hand, she hates to admit it, on the other, she could never flat out lie to Blake. “I feel like shit,” Yang says, her voice strained. Blake sits next to her- Yang can’t help but lean into her shoulder.

“What do you want to do today?” Blake asks, the same soft tone easing the bite of a bitter ache in her chest. 

She answers honestly once more. “Dunno.” She hopes Blake doesn’t take her distant reply personally. 

“Let’s watch a movie,” Blake says, moving her hand to cover Yang’s. Yang wants to cry at how good Blake is to her; she nods silently instead. “I made a blanket nest. I think we can both fit.” Yang is able to offer a slight smile, glancing behind them to look at her nest.

“You’re the best,” she says, absolutely sincere despite her mood. Blake squeezes her hand, standing up and pulling Yang up with her.

“What do you want to watch?”

“Your pick,” Yang murmurs. They settle into the blankets, pulling them around their shoulders as Blake grabs her laptop. She sits up higher, letting Yang rest against her for once. Yang gratefully accepts the change in position, settling her head on her shoulder. When Blake chooses a movie she knows, she looks up at her in surprise. Blake has that mysterious smile on her face, the one Yang hasn’t quite figured out yet. 

They watch quietly. She falls asleep at one point, not on purpose- Blake’s just so comfortable and she’s warm and for once she sleeps without it just being an escape. Blake keeps her arm around her waist, letting her sleep. She wakes up again before the credits roll and watches the rest of the movie. 

Yang feels less sad, yet still disconnected. She presses her face into Blake’s shirt, just to ground herself. Blake puts her cheek to her head in return, her dark hair falling against Yang’s blonde curls.

“Blake?” She knows her voice wavers but she feels like if she doesn’t say anything now she won’t ever say anything.

Blake strokes her thumb across the tiny strip of revealed skin between her hoodie and shorts. It feels nice. “Yes?”

The words spill out. “Do you ever- um, feel like you’re not real? Like life is just a dream?”

“Yeah,” she answers, and Yang can tell she’s cautious about the subject.

“And it’s like- you feel really cold, right? And kinda heavy?” She can’t help her shyness.

“Sometimes,” Blake replies; the curt tone hurts.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, disappointed. “Do you not wanna talk about it?” 

Blake holds her closer in apology. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” she tells her. “You should keep talking.”

Once again, she talks without thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve just been so sad lately and- it’s so hard to get out of bed or do anything or talk to anyone. I don’t-” she pauses for a moment, hot tears stinging her eyes.

“Don’t what?” Blake prompts.

“I don’t feel like myself right now,” she says, moving her free hand to cover her mouth and hide a sob. After a moment, feeling like her chest is collapsing, she continues with “And the worst part is like, it comes and goes so easily. Nothing stays for long and it’s so confusing.”

“I’m sorry,” Blake says, settling her hand on the curve of Yang’s waist. Her touch is comforting. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

“I don’t know,” Yang sighs. “Thanks for listening.” Blake turns to press a kiss to the top of Yang’s head, gentle lips seeming to ease some of the ache.

“You’ve been like this for a while, huh?” The question is more of a statement- Yang stiffens, eyes welling up with fresh tears.

“I don’t want to be,” she whispers.

“What do you mean?” Blake’s voice is equally soft as she brings her hand up to stroke through her hair.

“I’ve been like this before. I, um- sophomore year was really hard.”

“You and me both.” Their quiet is comforting but awkward. Blake seems to be very far away until Yang adjusts her weight, rubbing her face against the soft fabric of Blake’s shirt. “You should talk to someone,” Blake tells her, a sadness in her words that Yang doesn’t quite understand. “Like your dad. Someone who can help.”

Yang makes a whining sound, trying to express her myriad of feelings towards that idea. Blake moves her arm away from her, withdrawing into herself. “I’m serious, Yang. Don’t let it get worse.” The volume of her voice is so soft and gentle, it’s terrifying against the brittle tone of her words.

Yang stares at the wall, idly taking in the details of the quotes covering them. There’s so many about change and growth that feel important. “I know,” she says. “I know.”

 

It doesn’t take long for what Blake said to sink in. Yang stumbles out of bed after a sleepless night and goes upstairs. The scene is so familiar it hurts. Early morning sunshine floods the room from the eastern windows, illuminating their table and its three chairs, their shadows stretching across the floor. Her father is enjoying the peace, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee out of the ugly misshapen mug Yang made in fifth grade pottery. He looks up when she sits down across from him, resting her head against one of her hands. There’s a lump in her throat; she’s fighting tears. Tai folds the paper down, looking at her with worried blue eyes. She can only imagine how she looks with unbrushed hair, bags under her eyes, sweatpants and hoodie that need a wash.

“Yang,” he says, his worry cut short when she interrupts.

“I’m really sad again, Dad,” she chokes out. “It won’t go away.” He lets the paper flutter to the table, nearly knocking into the middle chair as he goes to her. She stands up- only a few inches shorter, she’s the perfect height to lay her head on his shoulder.

She cries.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s time for a yearly checkup anyway. Yang listens from downstairs as her father calls their family doctor’s office, making an appointment in his usual cheerful voice, adding that he has “some concerns about her mood”. Her hands curl into fists.

  
  


Yang doesn’t want to do it. She does anyway.

  
  
  


The nurse comes to get them, leading them into an office, stopping along the way. Her height is measured, she stands on the scale, her vitals are taken.  She’s perfectly healthy. The fact that she is physically fine yet feeling so broken leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She sits on the edge of the exam table, swinging her legs. 

Their family doctor comes in with a smile. He’s an older man; she’s known him all her life. “Hey, Yang. How are you?”

The ice heavy in her chest has spread into her upper body. Her hands lie in her lap, twisted together. “Fine,” she mumbles, staring at the floor.

“Your dad said when he called that he’s worried about you,” he says. “Do you want to talk about that?” She shrugs. After a second, he speaks to Taiyang. “Tai, do you mind leaving for a second?”

Yang can picture the look on her dad’s face- uncertain and fretful, the creases around his eyes deepening. “Um, sure.” She listens the chair squeak as he gets up and the sound of his feet on the tile. She absently wonders if this is really her life, or if she’s going to wake up at any second and feel alright for once.

The door closes. “Yang,” the doctor says. There’s an pause as he waits for her to look at him. After she finally does, he asks “Are you okay?”

“No,” she says. “I’m not.”

  
  
  
  


Sitting in an unfamiliar doctor’s office makes Yang feel like the world is closing in around her. She looks at her black Converse, absently noting the scuffs and dirt, before raising her head.

“Any family history of mental illness?” The psychiatrist is staring at her while still typing. It’s unnerving. 

She opens her mouth to answer when her father sighs. “Yeah,” he says, and Yang’s eyes go wide. “Her mom and her uncle.”

“What?” she asks, her voice low. He gives her a side glance, shaking his head- a sudden flash of anger ignites in her chest.

“They have bipolar disorder,” Tai continues. “I don’t know a lot about it.”

 

She goes home with a peculiar feeling in her bones and a prescription for an antidepressant with a funny name.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a tease, I promise the rest is longer! Give me a couple more days on the second section and it'll be out.


End file.
